


Memories

by TrueIllusion



Series: Familiarity [17]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, POV Brian Kinney (Queer as Folk), Physical Disability, Post-Canon, Traumatic Brain Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-23 06:11:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17074892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueIllusion/pseuds/TrueIllusion
Summary: There it was. The tiniest hint of the old Justin -- teasing Brian, snarking at him. Brian was starting to notice those moments occurring occasionally, and he hoped it meant that the old Justin was starting to return. That maybe someday soon, Justin would feel up to trying something artistic again. Brian didn’t care if that meant painting or drawing or computer graphics or writing a fucking song -- as long as Justin was creating. He knew his husband was the happiest when he was creating something. And he knew Justin would feel much better if he would just give something -- anything -- a try. But Justin was too hung up on not being able to do things the same way he did before.





	Memories

_“But you don’t even know what it is.”_

_“Sure I do. It’s false hope.”_

_“But you can draw with it. See? Same as a pen or a pencil or a paintbrush. Just much easier to control.”_

_“Like with my gimp hand?”_

_“And there’s a million special effects you can create with it. Stop being a fucking princess and come give it a try.”_

_“What for? To make you happy? So that you can tell yourself you fixed little Justin’s problems and made everything all better? Well, you can’t fix this, alright? No one can.”_

*****

Brian hadn’t expected Justin to want to go all-in on what might as well have been his first time with Brian’s paralyzed body. He’d wondered if Justin might be put-off by how his legs looked, since he hadn’t really seen them without pants, or if Justin would be afraid of how differently Brian’s body functioned now. He had seemed a bit uncertain at first, but Brian was able to reassure him and get him to keep going. Brian had shown him a couple of tricks, although it felt strange to be guiding his lover through the process. He usually preferred to directly demonstrate for his student -- the way he had with Justin back when they’d first met -- but now, that wasn’t particularly feasible for most things. The only demonstration he ended up giving was taking Justin’s hands and guiding them to the area that gave him the most intense sensation. He had to admit, his motivation there had been a bit selfish, because he’d gone so long without having sex with his husband that he wanted to have that sort of sensation, and he didn’t want to have to wait for it.

And just like when they’d first met, Justin was a quick learner. He listened, and he did as he was told, and Brian was really enjoying it. In fact, he was so lost in the pleasure of the moment of finally reconnecting with his partner, that it took him a few minutes to realize that he was feeling both of Justin’s hands on his body. Even so, Justin still seemed a bit tentative, but once Brian started using his own hand on Justin’s cock, things escalated quickly, and any hesitancy was quickly forgotten.

Brian was drinking it all in, giving himself over to the myriad of sensations he was feeling as he kissed Justin hungrily. Almost greedily. Wishing this would never end.

Then, Justin said the magic words: “I want you inside me.”

One of his favorite things to do now when it came to sex was to watch Justin ride him -- seeing how much Justin enjoyed it. Watching Justin as he approached his climax, and ultimately, seeing him orgasm. When they’d first started experimenting with sex after Brian’s injury, Brian remembered wishing for nothing more than the ability get on his knees and stay there, or at least to thrust, no matter what position he was in. But that wasn’t happening without any control over his hip flexors. He didn’t have a choice but to take a more passive role sometimes, but he was still plenty active when it came to everything he could do with his hands. And he was happy to oblige Justin’s every whim.

Justin didn’t ask any questions about the fact that they weren’t using a condom -- perhaps he’d made the logical jump that since they’d been married for a long time and Brian hadn’t been tricking, they didn’t need one. He knew Justin would notice his dry orgasm -- well, as much of an orgasm as it was -- but Justin didn’t ask any questions about that either.

Neither of them lasted very long, but Brian was still satiated, and he hoped Justin was as well. If the blissed-out look on his face as he collapsed to the bed next to Brian was any indication, Justin was definitely satisfied.

Brian leaned over and kissed Justin again -- just a brief, affectionate kiss this time.

“That was amazing,” he said. “I missed that.”

“I don’t feel like I did much,” Justin mumbled into Brian’s shoulder, still catching his breath.

“Oh, you’re wrong there. You did plenty.”

“Whoever thought Brian Kinney would be so easy to please?”

There it was. The tiniest hint of the old Justin -- teasing Brian, snarking at him. Brian was starting to notice those moments occurring occasionally, and he hoped it meant that the old Justin was starting to return. That maybe someday soon, Justin would feel up to trying something artistic again. Brian didn’t care if that meant painting or drawing or computer graphics or writing a fucking song -- as long as Justin was creating. He knew his husband was the happiest when he was creating something. And he knew Justin would feel much better if he would just give something -- anything -- a try. But Justin was too hung up on not being able to do things the same way he did before.

Nevermind the fact that if Brian had had that attitude ten years ago, they would never have had sex again. Sometimes life forces you to find new ways to do things. That was a lesson Brian had learned the hard way, and now it seemed Justin was going to learn it the hard way as well.

Of course, Brian had seen the old Justin during sex as well -- likely led by pure primal drive. Justin had always been adventurous and relatively fearless when it came to sex -- that was one of the things Brian had liked about him from the start, that kept him coming back for more -- and that was exactly the Justin he’d ended up with tonight, once the initial jitters had passed. If only getting Justin to pick up a paintbrush again was as easy as wrapping a hand around his dick.

But art definitely wasn’t the only issue here. Justin’s memory loss was still a substantial stumbling block, and it was frustrating them both. Although Brian hadn’t realized just how upset Justin was at not remembering their wedding until earlier that night.

He’d come into the apartment after his appointment at Rochelle’s office -- meeting with her and also with the person who held the key to getting him some drugs that could help him finally get some sleep. It had been a rough last several hours, from his argument with Justin over whether or not Justin should be going to his own therapy appointment alone, to his first in-person session with Rochelle in years. Brian felt unsettled, like he always did after dredging up everything he didn’t want to remember, much less talk about in detail, breaking down every aspect of what he thought and why he thought it. But she kept telling him that he had to talk about those things -- that getting them out into the open was going to be a big part of being able to move on. He had to stop avoiding them, if he didn’t want them to continue to have power over him. If he didn’t want to stay stuck.

But Brian was starting to wonder how long it would take before all of this talking started paying off, instead of just making him feel emotionally drained. She’d told him it would take a while, but so far he wasn’t noticing much difference. He had a homework assignment this time -- to write down every detail he could remember about the night Justin was bashed, so he could read it aloud at his next session. And he definitely wasn’t looking forward to doing that -- either writing it down or reading it. He’d much rather avoid thinking about it entirely. But then, he’d stay stuck.

He could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on when he opened the door, and all he could think of was that he was looking forward to trying out these new pills later, and getting a full, uninterrupted night of hopefully dreamless sleep.

Brian knew Justin should already be home, and that he would probably be raging or moping, since those seemed to be Justin’s only two emotions lately. But when he opened the door, he found Justin crying quietly on the sofa, with the photo of their wedding reception laying next to him. Even with all of the emotion Brian had seen from Justin during his time in rehab, Brian didn’t think he’d seen Justin this upset. He’d never seen him this upset over anything, really.

Everything else Brian had been thinking about was quickly forgotten the moment he saw Justin. All Brian wanted to do was touch him, hold him, comfort him. Even though he knew he couldn’t truly bring Justin comfort unless he could find some way to bring back his missing memories. Still, Brian did what he could -- holding Justin and rubbing his back until he calmed down enough to talk.

And the conversation they had made Brian realize that Justin’s lost memory of their wedding was destroying both of them.

It should have been a happy memory, but right now, it wasn’t. There were too many emotions tied up in the loss of that memory. Too much sadness. Too much regret.

After seeing Justin tonight, Brian felt awful about how upset he’d been that Justin hadn’t remembered their wedding. He’d already known that the way he felt about it was irrational and unfair, which was why he’d kept it to himself, but holding Justin while he cried over it -- nearly inconsolably -- had practically torn Brian’s heart out, and dissolved every bit of the irrational anger he’d been holding in.

Brian still felt helpless. He’d been feeling that way since December, and there didn’t seem to be any end in sight. He wanted to help Justin, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do to help. Justin rejected most everything he tried.

Brian felt like his husband’s entire personality had shifted -- his drive and his persistence seemed to be gone, replaced by layers upon layers of sadness and despair. Brian wanted so badly to do something to fix it, but he couldn’t.

Two more weeks went by and not much changed. They fell into a routine -- Brian working from his home office, and occasionally meeting with clients elsewhere in the city, while Justin spent most of every single day at home, save for the couple of hours twice a week when he went to therapy. Brian kept hoping Justin would want to go to his studio sometime, or to at least work on his computer in the apartment, but he didn’t. The only place he ever went was therapy. He whiled away the hours watching television and reading books. At least the reading was something he was supposed to be doing -- it was a way to exercise his brain’s ability to use and recall words when needed. Brian wasn’t sure the television was quite as beneficial, but he chose not to say anything, because he didn’t want to make Justin upset.

Valentine’s Day came and went, and Brian tried to take Justin out for a fancy, romantic dinner, which didn’t turn out as planned. The restaurant hadn’t been as accessible as they’d promised, so getting in was a struggle, and Justin kept saying, “Let’s just go home,” but Brian really wanted to make this happen. He knew Justin had always liked romance, even though Brian had never been much of a fan of it. He wanted to give this to Justin, to try to make him feel better. So Brian had put his own frustrations aside and tried to focus on Justin, but by that point it was seeming like nothing was going to lift the dark cloud of sadness that had settled over his husband.

Brian also kept finding Justin looking at the small photo album that contained the pictures Ben had taken of their wedding. He wasn’t sure if Justin spending so much time looking at it was a good idea, but he was afraid to mention that, because he didn’t want to set Justin off or make him feel like he was treating him like a child. He’d learned that lesson during the argument over Justin taking a cab to therapy -- that his concern wasn’t always well-received. He wasn’t even sure that Justin realized that he had seen him looking at the photo album. Coming home from a meeting with a client and finding a sad and wistful Justin hurriedly putting it away became a regular occurrence.

The only time it seemed Justin was truly happy was when they were having sex, which they’d done a few times since that first night after bringing Justin home. Brian was glad there was at least some small bright spot in Justin’s life right now, and Brian certainly wasn’t going to complain about sex, but he really wanted Justin to branch out more and start trying some new things. Other things that might make him happy too. Once again, he really felt that Justin needed to find some sort of creative outlet. He just wasn’t sure how to effectively encourage Justin to do that without turning him completely in the opposite direction.

Brian met Rob at his office on a Wednesday for lunch. He’d tried to get Justin to come, but Justin had refused, barely even moving his gaze from the television as Brian said goodbye to him and left the apartment. So it would just be him and Rob. And Brian knew it was likely about to become a rant session on his part, because it had been a particularly rough morning.

“Just you?” Rob inquired as he looked curiously at Brian over the top of his laptop screen.

“Just me. I tried. He said no. Just like he says no to every damn thing now.”

“It’s a rough place to be.” Rob closed the computer and came out from behind the desk, grabbing his coat off the chair that sat in the corner of his office. “You know that, and I know that.”

Brian followed Rob back to the elevator he’d just come out of a few minutes before, and they rode together down to the ground floor. Rob asked the receptionist at the building’s front desk about her grandson as they passed by.

“How do you remember all of these things about people?” Brian asked as they exited the building and started toward the cafe, which was a few blocks away from Rob’s office. “I swear, I think you know everyone’s name and some detail about their family.”

Rob shrugged. “I just like learning about people and their lives. And people love talking about themselves most of the time, even if they won’t admit it, so it’s easy if you ask the right questions.”

Rob was a regular at the cafe they were going to, since he ate lunch there multiple times a week, and Brian had been there with him enough times that they were starting to get to know him as well. Rob must have called ahead to let them know they were coming, because they already had their usual table ready, with the chairs pushed aside into the corner.

True to form, Rob knew the names of all of the servers, and was asking them questions and generally remembering things about their lives that Brian would have never been able to remember in a million years. But Brian had noticed that they got better service there than he’d ever gotten at any restaurant, even ones that were much more expensive, so maybe there was something to be said for taking an interest in other people’s lives.

“You’re looking a lot better than the last time I saw you,” Rob said as he shrugged out of his coat and set it aside.

“Sleep -- it does a body good,” Brian said, taking off his gloves and laying them on the table before taking off his own coat.

“Now, I would have thought an ad man of your caliber could do better than stealing the dairy council’s slogan.”

“Why would I waste my creativity on you when you’re not paying me?”

“I guess that makes sense. When it’s such a limited amount, why waste it?” Rob grinned at Brian and took a sip from one of the glasses of water that had been placed on their table.

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. My creativity sure won you over nine years ago.”

“Jesus, has it been that long? That’s hard to believe.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t long after Justin and I got married. And that doesn’t feel like it should have been nine years ago either.”

“How’s he doing?”

“About the same. Never goes anywhere except therapy. Never wants to do anything. He has to be bored out of his mind, but that doesn’t seem to be motivating him to make any changes either. I hate to say this, but I’m pretty fucking frustrated with it.”

“I get that. It would be hard not to be.”

“I’m sure he’s a lot more frustrated than I am, but I really wish I could get him to just do something. I think he’d start feeling better if he did. And I keep coming home and finding him looking at our wedding album. He still doesn’t remember any of it, and I know it’s upsetting him, but he keeps doing it anyway.”

“He’s living in the past, and he’s afraid for the future. I’m sure you’ve been there too. And I know I have. Right now, he’s in that place where he’s waiting for something to change so that everything gets back to normal, instead of accepting reality as it is. It’s tough.”

“I just don’t know what to do to pull him out of this. To make him see that this isn’t the end of the world.”

“He has to want to. You can’t do it for him.”

“How do I make him want to, though?”

“You can’t. All you can do is just be there. You’re already doing that. Just keep doing it. He’ll come around eventually.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“Did you come around eventually?”

“Well, yeah. Because of him, though.”

“And what was he doing that made that happen?”

“Just being there, I guess. Encouraging me even when I didn’t listen. Not treating me any differently.”

“There you go. That’s your answer.”

“Keep doing what I’m already doing?”

Rob nodded. “Let him come to it in his own time. You can encourage him, sure, but at the end of the day, the only thing you can do is just be there.”

“He’s so fucking focused on trying to remember our wedding, though. I almost think he’s so focused on it that he’ll probably never remember at this point, because he wants it too badly. He says he’s been getting some flashbacks of other things -- and I can see it in his eyes when he does -- but never anything from the wedding. I’m really just ready to move on with our lives.”

“So do that, then.”

“And what, oh wise one, would you recommend I do in order to make him move on when he won’t leave the apartment?”

“Just keep going on about your life, and encouraging him to do the same. It all comes back to just being there. Keep things as normal as you can. Treat him the same way you always have. He’s still the same person.”

At his core, Brian knew that was true, but it was hard to have faith in that when it seemed like the Justin he knew was so far away at the moment. When he was wondering if that Justin was ever going to return to him.

When Brian got back home, Justin was looking at the wedding album again, but this time he didn’t hastily put it away the second Brian came through the door.

“Hey,” Brian said, trying to gauge Justin’s mood. “Doing okay?”

“Yeah, just thinking. And don’t say, ‘always a dangerous sign.’”

Brian laughed out loud. “Jesus, you remember that?”

“Yeah, I remember all of this stupid shit that doesn’t matter, but not the things that really do. Like, I have this memory of Emmett dancing and singing to Cyndi Lauper. Why the fuck would I need to remember that? But it’s there.”

“Do you remember what else happened that night?”

“Uh...someone tried to blow up Babylon, and a bunch of people died… Michael almost died.”

Brian nodded and bit his lip. “And do you remember what happened later? When I came back from the hospital?”

Brian watched as Justin looked away, deep in thought. Suddenly, he could see the realization of what else happened that night dawning in Justin’s eyes.

“Oh… That was... the first time you told me you loved me. I knew it had taken a long time, but I couldn’t remember exactly when it had happened. That was it.”

“Not so stupid now, is it? Sometimes it’s the stupid shit that’s part of some of the best memories. You remember lots of important things. You haven’t forgotten your entire life. You remembered the prom. How much you mean to me. How much we love each other. Those things seem pretty important.”

“But why I can’t I remember this?” He pointed to the album in his lap. “No matter how hard I try, it’s still like it happened to somebody else.”

“You felt that way about the prom once too,” Brian said as he took Justin’s left hand in his. “But now, you remember it. Maybe you’re trying too hard to remember.”

“I was thinking about how much you loved me, to do what you did for me. To learn how to stand and walk.”

“It’s not really walking.”

“Well, whatever you want to call it. You did it for me. I’m sure that was hard.”

“It was. But like I told you before, it was worth it. I did it because it felt right.”

“But you did it for me, and I can’t remember it.”

“Justin, that doesn’t matter.”

“To me it does.”

“But why? I don’t regret doing it, not even for a second, just because right now you can’t remember me doing it. The reason I did it was because I loved you. And I still do. That hasn’t changed. There’s no reason to beat yourself up over this. That’s not going to help you remember.”

“I’m just trying to find what will help me remember,” Justin said softly, his eyes glistening with tears. “I want to remember.”

“I know you do,” Brian said, tightening his grip on Justin’s hand. “These are all great memories, and I’m really glad we shared them, but they’re in the past. And at the end of the day, it’s not going to matter if you remember them or not, because that won’t change how much I love you. I don’t want to see you beating yourself up because there’s something you can’t remember. Tell me something else you do remember. Let’s focus on that.”

“I remember you coming up to me in the street the night of my first Pride, calling me a stud and asking me to dance. You promised I wouldn’t forget that one.”

“And you haven’t.” A smile spread across Brian’s face at the memory of dancing with Justin that night. How proud he’d been of him for standing up in the face of homophobes like Chris Hobbs and going to Pride at all. “What else do you remember?”

“I had a flashback the other day of dragging you out to Babylon to dance, then trying to get you to fuck me in the VIP room, that Christmas when I came home from New York.”

Brian couldn’t help but laugh at that one. “Christ, of all the things for you to remember, you pick the night when I made an ass of myself in my own club.”

“See? More stupid shit.”

“No, not quite… Do you remember what else happened that night?”

“Did we… We went back to your apartment, I remember that… And I think I remember kissing you and asking you if you wanted to go to bed.”

“That was the night you showed me that you still thought I was sexy. The night we started figuring out how to have sex, after...this.” Brian gestured toward his legs. “So that’s not stupid either. None of it is. Everything ties together. A memory you might think is stupid, could lead you to the things you want to remember.”

Justin nodded, and Brian could tell he was thinking about something, although he still looked unsure. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess you’re right.”

“But it’s not just about remembering the past. We have our whole future ahead of us, too. I want to see you smile again, Sunshine. I meant it when I said that if you don’t remember, we’ll make new memories.” Brian took the photo album from Justin’s lap, closed it, and set it down on the coffee table. “So maybe it’s time to put this away, and let’s make today the day we get started making new ones.”

“Okay,” Justin said softly as he leaned in closer to Brian, resting his head on Brian’s shoulder. “Nowhere to go but up, right?”

“That’s right. Nowhere but up.”

Justin stopped getting the photo album out, and Brian started catching him instead with old issues of Rage. He was curious what Justin was thinking about when he was looking through them, but didn’t want to ask because he didn’t want Justin to feel pressured. He hoped they were helping Justin feel inspired, and maybe getting him thinking about ways he could continue collaborating with Michael on their beloved side project, which had somehow now spanned nearly fifteen years.

Although it seemed like Justin might have been rekindling his interest in art, Brian still wasn’t too successful in getting him to leave the apartment for much of anything other than his therapy appointments and a few dinners out. He also still hadn’t gotten Justin to go to his studio. So he was surprised when he told Justin that Rob and Adam had invited them over for dinner and Justin actually seemed excited about it, particularly when he found out that Sophia and Esme would be there. Brian wasn’t going to question it -- whatever the reason was for Justin being happy about their dinner plans, he would take it. He would take Justin being happy about anything.

Maybe Justin was starting to turn the corner.

The following Friday, Brian and Justin took the subway to Rob and Adam’s neighborhood in Brooklyn. Justin had always liked their neighborhood, and had tried to talk Brian into moving several times, but Brian much preferred living in Manhattan. He found it to be more his style, not to mention the fact that it made it a lot easier to meet clients, most of whose offices were in Manhattan as well.

Esme and Sophia hadn’t seen Justin since before his accident, so to say they were excited to see him was an understatement -- they were ecstatic, practically attacking him with hugs the second he and Brian came through the door. Brian hadn’t been sure how Justin would react to being smothered with attention, but he seemed to be okay with it. Comfortable, even. It only took a few seconds for the girls to whisk Justin away, leading him off down the hallway to their bedrooms.

They’d always loved it when Brian and Justin came over, because Justin would sit down with them and help them draw, and sometimes he’d even bring some of his own supplies, which made them feel really special, getting to use “professional” things. He hadn’t brought anything tonight, because he still hadn’t been to his studio, but Brian doubted that would matter where the girls were concerned. They’d be happy to have Justin back, with or without paints and charcoals and oil crayons.

“I think your husband has been abducted,” Rob said, laughing. “They’ve really been looking forward to seeing him. I can go rescue him if I need to.”

“Nah, he’s probably alright. He’s really been looking forward to seeing them too.”

Brian followed Rob into the kitchen, where there was a pot of chili simmering on the stove and a pan of cornbread in the oven. Perfect for a wintery night in late February, according to Rob.

“Remind me to thank Justin later for making it a heck of a lot easier to get them to clean their rooms,” Rob said as he poured Brian a glass of bourbon. “Everything going okay at your place?”

“Leaving the house a little bit now...still nothing on the creative front.”

“It’ll come, I’m sure. It’s who he is. He won’t be able to stay away from it long.”

Brian hoped Rob was right. Justin needed something to do with his life, and he’d never really imagined doing anything other than art. Truthfully, Brian couldn’t imagine him doing anything else either.

Brian kept Rob company in the kitchen for a few more minutes, then decided to check on Justin and the girls. When he turned toward the hallway, he was surprised to see Adam already standing outside the door to Esme’s room. He put his finger to his lips when he saw Brian coming. Brian tried to be as quiet as possible going down the hallway, which meant moving slowly and carefully. He stopped short of the doorway, giving himself just enough room to see in without being seen, then turned to see what Adam was looking at.

Justin was sitting cross-legged on the floor in the corner of Esme’s room, his right hand in his lap, while Esme and her sister knelt at a small table with art supplies and paper strewn all over it. Sophia was coloring with crayons, and Esme was working on a drawing. She was totally absorbed in her work, her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth as she moved a colored pencil over the paper in careful strokes.

“If you rub your finger across that line, you can make it softer,” he heard Justin say.

Justin used his left hand to pick up another pencil from the table and offer it to her. “This color might look nice with what you’ve already chosen, too,” he said.

Brian just sat there in the hallway for a few minutes, mesmerized. Watching Justin help Esme create something. Seeing how thrilled she was with the results, and how engaged Justin was as well. Brian felt like he was seeing the old Justin. He could see a light in Justin’s eyes that he hadn’t seen in more than two months.

Not wanting to ruin the moment in case he was spotted, Brian turned and went back toward the living room. Adam followed behind him.

“He’s such a natural-born teacher,” Adam said quietly, likely trying to avoid being heard down the hallway. “He’s very good at it. I always wished I could have convinced him to do more than just sub, because the kids love it so much when he’s there. I’m pretty sure they like him better than their regular teacher. And they learn so much from him.”

“I just wish I could see that side of him more often, now,” Brian said sadly. “That’s the Justin I know. That’s the part that’s been missing since December.”

A few minutes later, all six of them were seated around Rob and Adam’s dining room table with bowls of chili and plates of cornbread, with bowls of cheese and sour cream and peppers and diced onions sitting in the middle.

“So, the kids at school are wondering when their favorite art teacher is coming back,” Adam said, looking at Justin with a thoughtful, sincere expression.

“He’s not.” Justin pushed his chili around in the bowl with his spoon and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“Hmm. That’s too bad. They’ll be pretty disappointed. They really loved you.”

Justin shrugged.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Adam said.

“I can’t do that kind of thing anymore.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t even hold a pencil. I can’t hold anything with my right hand and actually use it -- everything just slips through my fingers because I can’t grip it. How would I teach?”

“You wouldn’t need to hold a pencil -- or anything -- to teach kids how to bring their visions to life. You have a gift, Justin. You should use it. The world shouldn’t miss out on your talent just because you had an accident.”

“I just can’t do it right now,” Justin said quietly. “Thank you for asking, but I can’t.”

Leave it to Justin to be all WASP-y politeness when Brian could tell he really wanted to cry.

“I hope you’ll still teach me,” came Esme’s tiny voice, which fit her petite body -- small for her nine years -- perfectly.

Justin bit his lip and nodded. “I will. I promise.” His voice was shaky, and he sounded like he was on the verge of tears. Brian grabbed Justin’s right hand under the table, squeezed it, and hoped he would feel it.

Brian had been starting to see glimmers of hope -- more and more pieces of the old Justin, who was driven and adventurous and would try anything once. Even though he wasn’t quite there yet by any means, every puzzle piece that fell into place, Brian felt brought him closer to getting his husband back. He’d really hoped that Justin would accept Adam’s offer, especially after he’d seen how different Justin was when he was helping Esme with her drawing. Teaching could have helped him find some purpose, even if it was only a temporary position. So to hear him flatly turn it down was not only frustrating, but also made Brian sad. Tonight, Justin had taken a couple of steps forward, but he also seemed to have taken a giant step back, all because of a simple question.

Justin managed to collect himself enough to get through the rest of dinner, but Brian could hear him sniffling quietly on the subway ride home, even though he kept his face turned away. Brian sat next to him, holding his hand. Just being there.

Brian wondered what it would take to give Justin back his confidence -- the belief he used to have that he could do anything he set his mind to. The same drive that had kept him pursuing Brian, even through all the times Brian turned him down and pretended not to care, even when he did.

He didn’t know what it would be, but he knew he had to find it.

**Author's Note:**

> Sending wishes for a happy holiday to all those who celebrate. Thank you for coming on this adventure with me, and for your encouragement and inspiration. It is much appreciated. I am spending some time with my family, so that may slow down the next installment a bit. Thanks again for reading.


End file.
